


Like Slitting Wrists

by pressdbtwnpages



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-25
Updated: 2007-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:30:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressdbtwnpages/pseuds/pressdbtwnpages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Nothing good is going to come from this decision and Ryan wishes so badly that he cared.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Slitting Wrists

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-ed by [](http://wordsaremyfaith.livejournal.com/profile)[**wordsaremyfaith**](http://wordsaremyfaith.livejournal.com/) for which I'm also grateful.

It's probably not a terribly significant moment for most kids, picking up their first alcoholic beverage and deciding to drink. For Ryan, it's like closing his eyes and jumping off a bridge. It's like slitting his wrists. The sip that Ryan knows now he's about to take is giving in. Giving up. It's a childish, cowardly escape. Nothing good is going to come from this decision and Ryan wishes so badly that he cared.

He wishes he had a better reason, or someone to talk him out of this, because he's scared. He doesn't want to do this, take one more step towards becoming his father, but he can't really see another option.

In the morning, in the morning, what? He'll wake up hungover. Because Ryan won't stop with just one drink, can't stop because the whole point is to get drunk. So in the morning he'll wake up hungover and Jon will be surprised and Brendon will be kind of hurt and Spencer will be furious and scared to death. But at least they'll be paying attention.

Ryan already has his lines planned in his head, for when someone asks, "Why?"

He'll turn to Jon, to Brendon, say, "Why not? You guys always talk about how it's not a big deal. It's not."

And someone, okay, not someone, Spencer, Spencer will be the one interrogating him, Spencer will say, "It's a big deal for you."

Ryan will shrug, tell him, tell them all, "Not anymore," and just keep walking.

There will be whispers after that. God, he hopes there will be whispers after that, low and worried, nervous glances at his back. He'll let them worry. Raise his eyebrows and catch their furtive looks, meet their gazes.

At some point, Brendon will plead, "Ryan, what's wrong?" and Ryan won't have an answer for him.

He hasn't decided yet if he'll actually get drunk more than once, and if he doesn't if he'll fake it or just maintain his distance.

He'll stop speaking to Spencer, regardless, because that's the first warning sign. Eventually, though, Spencer will corner him and say, "Enough, Ryan. I'm calling Pete." And then because it's Ryan and he's Spencer and Spencer isn't so good at being in charge when it comes to Ryan, he'll add a quiet, "Okay, Ryan? I'm calling Pete, okay?"

Ryan will ignore his best friend in the world, look over Spencer's shoulder at some mid-distant point, and Spencer will sigh and turn away, sounding defeated as he tells Brendon and Jon that he's calling Pete.

Ryan's not sure how Pete will fix things, but he will. He'll listen and understand and maybe fly out for a few days and keep his arm around Ryan and they'll drink nothing but ice-cold water. He'll trace the blue veins on Ryan's wrists with a gentle finger and not say anything at all, except maybe he'll cry. Maybe he'll hug Ryan close and cry into his hair.

Ryan kind of likes that mental image, likes the idea of his idol crying over him. It's a good image, one worth writing down, though he's not sure how to turn that into a song, much less a top 40 pop number.

"Hey, kid, you gonna drink that?" The tender asks from the other end of the bar. The hotel bar is little more than a dark room, and they're the only two people in it. Ryan realizes he's still holding the glass of golden liquid, considering. He doesn't see how whether or not he drinks it is any of the bartender's business.

"I don't know," Ryan tells the overweight, balding man frankly, meeting his eyes. He meant to, that was always his plan, but he's afraid that he's thought about it too long, instead of just tossing it back and having it over with. So much of Ryan wants not to drink it that he almost can't remember what the point is.

Ryan's mind goes blank, watching light reflect through liquid, and he idly wonders if his father ever took the time to do this.

"Ryan?" Brendon's voice asks softly, and Ryan starts to look up out of reflex before he remembers that he's brooding, silent and alone, that he doesn't want anyone else around, he's about to jump off a cliff.

But Brendon's hand is on his shoulder and he's taking away the glass before Ryan can say anything, fight him. Instead, Ryan's body betrays him, slumping against Brendon and taking a shaky breath.

"Hey, hey," Brendon's grip turns into a hug. "It's okay."

Ryan shakes his head and rests his head on Brendon's shoulder, trying to pretend he is anywhere else, that he hasn't been caught like this, trying to draw comfort from another body.

Brendon shifts and clears his throat. Ryan wraps his arm around Brendon's waist so he won't let go. "Spencer's really worried about you, man. Let's go upstairs, okay? Let's go talk to Spence."

It's hard getting off of the bar stool without letting go of Brendon, and Ryan wonders briefly how drunk people do it and why such difficult furniture is given to the inebriated. He manages though, presses more firmly against Brendon's side and fumbles for his wallet, throwing down a twenty and wanting nothing more than to leave the bar.

Brendon doesn't say anything as they leave, as they ride up to their floor in the elevator. His presence is comforting though, solid and familiar and Ryan cherishes a faint hope that things might be okay.

Spencer's pacing when Brendon opens the hotel room door, Ryan a step or two behind him feeling shy and embarrassed.

Spencer opens his mouth like he wants to start yelling, but then he shuts it and his fists unclench and he asks, "Ryan?" in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah." Ryan's own voice is husky like he hasn't spoken all day.

Spencer opens his arms and Brendon releases Ryan, and Ryan just stands there, uncertain. "Um," he asks after what feels like years of awkward silence, "where's Jon?"

"Still looking for you," Brendon answers, and then says, "I'll call him," and steps out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Ryan feels trapped. Guilty. And then realizes Spencer doesn't know where he was and maybe Ryan can convince Brendon not to tell.

"So, the bar, Ryan?" Spencer asks, clearly more aware of what's happened than Ryan anticipated.

"I just -"

"Was it research, Ryan?" Spencer suggests. "You wanted to think about your dad? Understand him better? Were you looking for inspiration? What?"

And Spencer's voice hasn't changed at all, it's still soft, the kind of voice you would use to calm a frightened animal, but Ryan can hear the sarcasm and the rage under it.

"Spence," Ryan says weakly, sitting on the edge of the bed. He covers his face with his hands and then slowly pulls them down, turning to meet his best friend's eyes. "I didn't, okay? I didn't."

"Congratulations?" Spencer asks, not bothering to hide the anger now. "What are you doing, Ryan? What the fuck?" His voice is getting louder and louder.

The keycard clicks in the lock and Brendon stands in the open doorway. "Everything okay?"

Spencer looks like he wants to tell Brendon to fuck off, but instead he deflates and says to no one in particular, "I don't understand."

Ryan stands up and says, "I'm calling Pete, okay? I'm calling Pete."

He goes into the bathroom and locks the door, dialing number two on his speed-dial.

"Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up," he mumbles as the phone rings and then as Pete answers, "Hello? Ryan?"

"Pete!" and there's maybe an embarrassing note of hysteria in his voice, but Ryan can't bring himself to care. "I'm going crazy and I can't do this and I almost had a drink today. Just now in the hotel bar."

Pete lets out a whoosh of breath that's strangely calming and says, "Okay, slow down, what's going on?"

Ryan perches on the edge of the toilet and says, "I think, maybe, I'm going crazy."

Pete's quiet for a moment and then asks, "Why, in particular, do you think that?"

"I just went down to the bar and bought myself a drink, Pete!" Ryan all but yells.

"Why?" Pete asks again.

"I don't know," Ryan confesses. "I was bored and lonely and wanted some attention so I snuck off downstairs and ordered myself a glass of the first kind of liquor that came to mind. Am I turning into my dad? Am I - I'm going crazy, right?"

"Calm down," Pete instructs. "Where are you right now? Do Spencer and the others know where you are?"

"I'm in the bathroom in Spencer's room. He's outside."

"Good, okay. So," there's rustling on the other line, like Pete's settling in, "talk to me, Ross. What's up?"

"I don't know!" Ryan wails. "I'm just all freaked out and I feel useless and I'm doing stupid stuff. I'm scared, Pete."

"Hey," Pete says. "You're okay now, you're safe. I'm here, and Spencer."

"Yeah," Ryan swallows a gulp of air.

"You did the right thing calling me," Pete continues.

"I almost didn't," Ryan confesses. "When Brendon found me... I almost drank it."

"But you didn't, Ryan," Pete says. "That's the important thing, you stopped yourself."

"Brendon stopped me," Ryan contradicts.

"If you really wanted to drink, you would have done it before someone stopped you." Pete points out, echoing Ryan's earlier thoughts.

"Like you with the Ativan, you called Bob."

"It's not the same," Pete says harshly. "You're not me." And then more gently, he asks, "You know that, right?"

"...Yeah, I know that, Pete."

"You want me to come down?" Pete asks. "Hang out for a few days?"

Ryan knows that the mature, adult thing to do is say no. Talk to his bandmates and deal with his shit on his own. But he doesn't want to. He wants Pete.

"Um, kinda. Is it... could you?"

Pete chuckles at him. "I'll catch up with you guys tomorrow."

"Okay."

"You all right for now?"

"I guess. Yeah. Yeah." Ryan tries to sound more convincing.

"You should probably go talk to your boys, then. I'm sure they're worried. And warn them I'm coming. But call, okay? If you freak out, if you need anything, anything, Ryan, just, you've got my number."

"Yeah."

"I'll see you soon, okay, Ryan Ross? I'll see you soon."

"Okay."

Ryan hangs up with a faint sense of disappointment, like he hadn't gotten enough from Pete. But he was coming, that was something.

Ryan stands, exits the bathroom, says, "So Pete's coming for a visit," and looks around.

Brendon's sitting at the edge of the bed watching him, Spencer's flopped on his back on the bed staring pointedly at the ceiling, and Jon's next to Spencer, laying on his side.

"That's cool," Jon says and then peers at Ryan. "You all right, man?"

Ryan nods, but he all but throws himself at Jon when Jon sits up and opens his arms.


End file.
